The Secret Life of Carol Jennings Phonesex

You going to stare at it all night, baby” I asked as she gazed into the wet sweet pink of my pussy. There was lust and longing in her eyes, but also a bit of hesitation. She wanted it, and she wanted me… her fantasy was close to becoming reality and it scared her.
My perfect tits, nipples stiffened with desire barely held in check, heaved with anticipation, perspiration was starting to form all along my tight flat stomach, my back arched. I wanted it too. In fact, I NEEDED IT.

Her mouth parted, the tip of her soft tongue moistened her full lips.

“Think of it as a beautiful ripe mango,” I said.

She lowered her face towards my pelvis and planted a few kisses above my pussy, before teasing my labia with a few flicks of the tongue before treating me to a good, long, wet lick.

“Oh fuck,” I said, as her mouth clamped down, applying varying degrees of suction to my clit. An explosion was building within my body. For a Sapphic neophyte, she sure was doing a bang up job.

This was a chick that studied technique, the technique of oral pleasure. Of mouth sex. “Fuck you, “I said, almost under my breath and a little ironically, knowing that she could very well be ruining my chances at ever enjoying face this much again.

As my orgasm was unleashed, she quickly moved up to my face and attacked my lips with long, hard, hungry kisses.

“Oh my god,” she was saying. “You taste delicious.”

My horniness refused to be quelled. Kissing her once more, I looked deep into the hypnotic pool of green that were her eyes and purred “Ripe mango, take two.”

Carol Jennings lived in a small two-bedroom home with a roommate she had little in common with and rarely even spoke to, other than topics of necessity – i.e. rent, bills, etc. She worked as a librarian assistant at a private high school somewhere in the Valley.

On the surface, Carol seemed like any normal, if somewhat shy and socially stunted working girl. She was polite to a fault, was always quick with a “please” or a “thank you,” and was never known to utter an unkind word about anyone. Most nights of the week she stayed home, except on Thursday when she treated herself to a double feature at the art-house theatre and a cheat meal on her strict low carb diet.

She belonged to a gym where she enjoyed an exercise regimen of stationary cycling, light weightlifting and low-impact aerobics. Every other weekend played taught “Beginning Jazz Trumpet” to about four or five students depending on the day at the Jazz Camp, a hang out for jazz musicians and enthusiasts.

She had no real friends and never had a sexual relationship.

And in just two weeks she was going to turn thirty. 3-0!

Sex was always something of a mystery to her, and it always felt elusive. Sure, she was cute enough, when she wanted to be, and would often catch men giving her the once over, especially checking out her ass, which, if she was honest, she was rather proud of, but she never had the connection, never really met anyone she wanted to be intimate with … or more specifically, wanted to fuck.

“Reality,” she thought on several occasions, “would never live up to my fantasies.” She fantasied often, sometimes at work in those dull, quiet moments. Her thoughts racing … hands fondling her body … mouths exploring her … the sensations of flesh on flesh … Sometimes, under the cover of her desk, she’d let her hand fall nonchalantly in her lap, running her fingertips up her thighs until she met the moist center of her physical pleasure zone.

When she was fifteen she had stumbled upon her dad’s meager collection of Playboy’s and Penthouses, and would sit for hours just admiring the beauty that is the female form. The nape of slender necks, the curvature of the hips, the supple smoothness of breasts that seemed almost too perfect to be real, the warm inviting spread of vaginas.

Then the internet entered her life, and thus many new sexual doors were thrown open for her keen mind to navigate. It was here that she discovered fetish and all the exciting and uncharted erotic pleasures they promise.

Bound and gagged she would see herself … leather straps snapping at her back, leaving her ass a deep spanked pink ...

And cocks!

Cocks everywhere. Cocks in her mouth, her pussy, her asshole. Baptizing her with thick loads of ivory white cum!

The realm of fantasy, as exciting as it may be, ultimately left Carol unfulfilled. And it’s this unfulfilled feeling that led her to The Agency.

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